My Mournful Children and Planting Seeds of Hope
Here’s a picture of a little blessing book I’m writing right now. You can see more pics here.
Today is my last quiet day for the week, and I’m alternately blissed out, listening to “River” off the new Sarah MacLachlan Christmas CD and panicking that I’m not exactly getting any work done–even though it’s perfect weather to be inside. The leaves have all blown away, revealing the trees in all their glory–branches outstretched toward the sky so gray. I’m hoping a little Citron will revive me, since I’m mostly a Wild Sweet Orange caffeine-free kind of girl.
Last night lying in bed with one child in each arm, Carter burst into tears without warning. Madeleine and I instantly felt horrible. “In my mind, I keep thinking about when you and Dad die,” he said between sobs. Then Madeleine sighed, exasperated. “Can I please check into a hotel? Jeesh!”
But then she started to cry, too.
It’s one of my greatest fears as a parent–orphaning my children. It’s not just that I want to be there every second of their growing up years, it’s that i need to be there. No one can love them quite like I can. No one else knows them from the inside out, quite like me. I have every confidence the Universe would scoop them up in an unending wave of kindness and love should I pass from this earth, but I can’t imagine that’s anyone’s idea of a good idea. Not yet, anyway.
So I’m holding on to hope, and trying to whisper more hope into their wide, deep souls, too.
“Listen,” I told them both last night, after a hundred other words of supposed comfort had no affect. “Do you hear my breath? That means right this second I am alive, and so are you.” They snuggled in close, watching my breath rise and fall, real live love washing over their weary hearts.
“Why is it–” Madeleine said moments later into a tiny patch of silence. “That it’s so much easier for us to think about what might happen in the future than what’s happening right now?”
I give her the simple answer–about the power of their imaginations, about the way their minds are so gifted in holding ideas and possibilities–but who knows really? It is a question that takes a lifetime to master.
Then it was my turn to listen as they drifted sweetly off to sleep. Breath by breath.
These are my children–soulful, mournful, honest, deep–may I find a way to plant tiny seeds of peace in their hearts. And may those seeds grow into a tree of Hope that holds them safe their whole lives long– long after I’m gone, long after the tears of childhood love have passed.
November 29th, 2006 at 2:09 pm
what a pleasure it is to come to your blog and read this - thank you for sharing this tender moment (and what lovely names your babies have) x
November 29th, 2006 at 3:20 pm
this is beautiful, you’re a great Mom.
Since I had my kids late in life, dying before they are grown is one of my fears, especially for Emily (our daughter with Down’s - no one could ever love her like I do)
November 29th, 2006 at 3:31 pm
“may I find a way to plant tiny seeds of peace in their hearts”.
thank you for this.
November 29th, 2006 at 4:15 pm
Oh, Jen! Your babies are missing you already.. is this because they know about your upcoming trips?
(But I really had to laugh at Madeleine’s first response to ditch it all and head to a hotel! Is she her mother’s daughter?)
xo
November 29th, 2006 at 4:35 pm
Jen, such hopeful words for me. You shine hopeful light into my empty nest. No doubt that you have sacks full of blessing seeds for your children’s future. There is nothing like a mother’s love.
November 29th, 2006 at 5:53 pm
This was wondeful. James Taylor has a great cover of “River” on his Christmas record too.
Peace,
Milton
November 29th, 2006 at 5:55 pm
they sound so very deep and wise…just like their mother.
this brought a warm tear to my eye.
November 29th, 2006 at 5:57 pm
I thought you posted those flickr photos because you were selling books! DANGIT!
(can I buy one anyway? My community needs a Hope book and I have the creative energy of a pack mule).
November 29th, 2006 at 10:03 pm
d i n g d a n g b e a u t i f u l
you share life as sacred.
November 29th, 2006 at 11:26 pm
Thanks for sharing your motherly and womanly wisdom with us. So beautiful, Jen. Your children are blessed to have you as a mother. Very blessed, indeed.
November 30th, 2006 at 12:00 am
ahhh. what beautiful children. and what a beautiful mum.
you are teaching them well.
November 30th, 2006 at 3:09 am
Jen, I have a case of the i-wants. Maybe I could be one of those (quasi) strangers who gets a book of blessings?
November 30th, 2006 at 12:28 pm
The blessing book is beautiful!
A few weeks ago, I laid next to my nine-year-old daughter Julie whose friend had just lost her mommy to cancer. We cried together for a long time, and then just lay there without words. There was so little I could say - I couldn’t promise her that she would never lose her mommy like her friend had. I could only offer her that moment. Since then my heart has been aching for her little friend who won’t have her mommy next to her ever again.
November 30th, 2006 at 7:40 pm
i love the hope book. i’d also love to see one appear for sale on esty. hint, hint.
this is a great post, btw.
November 30th, 2006 at 7:41 pm
oops, make that etsy.
December 1st, 2006 at 2:14 pm
Jen,
Oh! This is so much like life at my house! Yesterday Eden collapsed into what can only be described as hysterics. Why? Two snow days and then back-to-school had altered her rhythm enough that she just had to have an emotional melt down. I held her on my lap for a half hour, counting our breaths in and out, and using and umbrella to illustrate how my love is still there, even in moments of exasperation.
Afterwards I felt like a wrung out sponge! But I also felt proud of myself for doing what Eden needed, even if it felt outside of the range of what a “normal” child requries.
“The Highly Sensitive Child” is my new Bible!
Much love and restoritive energy to you my friend! And hurrah for ETSY! I’ll be joining you there so with my custom embrodiered denim jackets!
Love,
R
December 2nd, 2006 at 12:53 am
thanks once again for the lovely words.